


only my hands to guide me

by larkspur (knightspur)



Series: now three [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Crushes, Denial of Feelings, First Time, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Minor Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-11 20:10:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15323346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightspur/pseuds/larkspur
Summary: “Do you want me to sleep with you?” Minghao asks, making it as plain as possible.“Yes,” Seokmin squeaks, tucking his face into the pillow with a groan. “But I mean… not like I want to becausey’know.I wanna do it as friends.”Minghao laughs, curling his arms around Seokmin’s shoulders to pull him closer in the darkness, patting his back. “I can fuck you as a friend.”





	only my hands to guide me

Minghao usually enjoys himself at parties. He likes dancing and music, and getting free alcohol from people he thinks is pretty.

Sometimes he likes going home with someone he thinks is pretty.

Tonight, though, he’s watching Seokmin get circled by sharks and he can’t help but feel bad for it.

It started with the two of them agreeing to Jeonghan’s invitation to play _never have I ever_ with a group of people, which leads them to this:

“You’ve _really_ never gotten laid, Seokmin-ah?” Jeonghan says, the smile on his face positively wolfish. He stumbled on the realization judging by how flustered Seokmin got from the increasingly raunchy questions and also how Seokmin wouldn’t answer for pretty much anything sex-related.

If it were Minghao, even if he were as drunk as Seokmin is now, there’s no way he’d be admitting a lack of experience to Yoon Jeonghan, of all people.

But Seokmin is Seokmin, so he nods his head, his teeth trapped between his lips, looking down at the bright red plastic cup in his hand.

“It’s not that big a deal, is it?” Seokmin asks, shooting a baleful look at the rest of them, looking for support.

“You’re twenty-two years old,” Jeonghan says, shaking his head, causing the long bangs to whip back and forth across his forehead. “ _And_ you’re handsome! Do you want me to be your wingman?”

Seokmin’s cheeks go pinker at the comment and he sinks down between his shoulders, shaking his head.

Soonyoung is giggling behind the rim of his own cup, kicking his feet together. “I can’t believe no one has taken our Seokgu to bed yet.”

“Oh my god,” Seokmin says, giggling a little weakly. “Hyung you make it sound like I’m a delicate maiden.”

Minghao’s known Seokmin well enough to know he has a habit of making himself part of the joke. Soonyoung laughs, almost splashing liquor over his knuckles.

“Are you?” He asks, raising both his eyebrows.

“Maybe,” Seokmin says, still shifting a little in his seat. “It just… hasn’t come up with anyone yet, I guess.”

Minghao can see the wheels of Jeonghan’s quicksilver mind starting to turn and he wracks his brain for something to say before Jeonghan comes up with a terrible idea to talk Seokmin into, like picking someone at the party to go home with just for the sake of getting fucked for free.

So, he throws his arm over Seokmin’s shoulders, pulling him in close and shooting Jeonghan a glare that’s only half playful.

“Me and Mingyu will find you someone,” he says, smiling when Seokmin leans into him. “We have better taste than Jeonghan-hyung.”

Jeonghan pushes his lower lip out in a pout, leaning forward to grab one of Seokmin’s hands. “Is that how you feel? That hyung has bad taste?”

“I’ll find someone on my own,” Seokmin says, squeezing Jeonghan’s hands with a laugh. “I don’t need you two arguing over my dowry.”

He casts a little glance up at Minghao, his eyes curving as he smiles, and Minghao laughs.

“Fine,” he agrees, taking a sip of the sticky sweet drink that Soonyoung gave him, nodding his head. “No setting up your sex dates.”

“Fine,” Jeonghan says, punctuating it with an airy sigh. “You can come ask me when you change your mind, I guess.”

Seokmin giggles and the game moves on.

Sitting in his back pocket, Minghao’s phone vibrates.

 **(seokgu):** _nice save~ thanks_

Minghao puts the phone back in his pocket, a little grin on his face.

**{* * *}**

“Um, so I was thinking,” Seokmin says, his voice thready and nervous, the words weaving through the dark air around Minghao.

He’s glad he planned on sleeping at Seokmin’s place already— walking all the way back to his own apartment would probably end with him falling asleep in a ditch.

“About what?” Minghao says, his brow slightly furrowed, concentrating on the uneven pavement in front of him. Seokmin is walking by his side, close enough that Minghao can feel the warmth of his skin through the thin sleeves of his hoodie. Seokmin giggles, reaching out and grabbing Minghao’s hand, reaching out to pull him away from where a chunk of concrete has gone missing.

Minghao goes along. Seokmin laces their fingers together. Minghao goes along with that, too.

“Earlier. With Jeonghan-hyung and Soonyoung-hyung,” he says, his voice a little squeakier than before.

It takes a moment for Minghao to catch up to what he’s talking about.

“Oh,” he says finally, nodding his head. “Getting you a sex date.”

“I don’t want them to hook me up with some stranger,” Seokmin says, hushed almost like he’s telling Minghao a secret. He pauses, using his free hand to stuff his key in the old lock, the metal making a grinding sound when he twists it and almost refusing to release the key again.

Seokmin yanks it free and Minghao follows him inside, kicking his shoes off. Seokmin only lets go of his hand to tug open the laces of his sneakers and Minghao almost finds himself mourning the loss.

He’s not as clingy as Mingyu when he’s drunk, but he sort of always wants to be cuddling with Seokmin, for whatever reason. He’s just more transparent about it when he’s been drinking.

As it is, he drapes himself against Seokmin’s back, arms around his shoulders, almost knocking him over.

“You don’t have to sleep with someone just ‘cuz of them,” Minghao says, his breath making the hairs on the back of Seokmin’s neck stand up. “You should only do it if you want to.”

“I’d be okay with someone I know,” he says, leaning back into Minghao now. “I was so hung up in Jaehyun in high school that I never went out and now I’m kind of… intimidated.”

“Someone you know?” Minghao says, his chin still resting on Seokmin’s shoulder. He could let go but he doesn’t see any real reason to.

“Yeah,” Seokmin says, leaning his head back, nose wrinkling when he smiles. “Like if you wanted to do it.”

“Me?” Minghao says, his mind crackling full of static. “You want _me_ to fuck you?”

Maybe the idea already sounds less crazy when it comes out of his mouth— Seokmin is one of his best friends, and it makes sense at least that the idea would be less intimidating with someone he trusts already…

“You can ignore me,” Seokmin says quickly, stepping away with a bright, forced laugh. “I think I drank too much.”

Minghao should let him back out of the conversation gracefully. They can both go fall asleep and forget it even got brought up at all.

Instead, what Minghao does is say: “If you want me to, I’ll do it.”

Even in the dim light of the room, Minghao can see how Seokmin’s face flushes.

“It’s really fine!” Seokmin says, his voice squeaking a little, holding his hands up. “I don’t plan on being single forever like Jihoon so I’m sure at some point I’ll find somebody and…”

“But you want someone you trust, right?” Minghao asks, taking a slight step forward. Seokmin doesn’t try to retreat again and Minghao takes it as a good sign. “I’m okay with it.”

For a second it seems like Seokmin might say something else— argue or tell Minghao that he’s making a joke, but he must decide against it because his face folds into relieved lines.

“I don’t wanna make things weird,” he says, biting the corner of his lip gently. “I just think it would be… better if, um, if it was you.”

Something about that pulls at the center of Minghao’s chest like a great stone fist has just squeezed his heart. He’s not sure what to call the feeling so he tries to just ignore it, patting Seokmin on the shoulder with a smile.

“Not tonight,” Minghao says, steering him off toward the bedroom with a little laugh. “We both drank too much for that.”

Seokmin giggles, going along ahead, pulling Minghao into his messy room and his un-made bed.

They curl up around each other to sleep, both facing the cracked window above the bed. It’s familiar and friendly— one of Minghao’s arms is slung over Seokmin’s waist and the other is stretched over his head. He can see the way Seokmin’s baby hairs shift when his breath hits them.

The last thought Minghao has before falling asleep is that it’s funny how someone as broad as Seokmin is still so easy to hold.

**{* * *}**

Minghao wakes up with a vague, fuzzy feeling in his mouth, sunlight carving across his face, and Seokmin’s head pillowed on his chest.

None of these things are a surprise. Half of Seokmin’s blinds are broken, Minghao probably forgot to brush his teeth before he fell asleep, and Seokmin is always a clinging octopus in his sleep. Minghao has one arm under his own head, the other tucked around Seokmin’s shoulders like he was trying to keep him there.

That’s not a big surprise either.

He gives Seokmin’s shoulder a shove, enough to roll him to the other side but apparently not enough to wake him, sitting up and rubbing his palms into his eyes.

It’s later than he usually gets up, and since he didn’t bother walking all the way home he’s probably going to end up skipping doing any stretching before he actually has to do things.

Seokmin’s arms wrap around his stomach, making Minghao jump in surprise, dragging him back down to the bed with a laugh. Minghao flops back with a little huff, turning his head to look at Seokmin properly.

“I’m trying to get up,” he says, shaking his head. Seokmin is grinning back at him, his hair mussed and pointing in every direction.

“It’s Saturday,” Seokmin whines, his fingers splayed out over Minghao’s ribs. “You’re supposed to sleep in.”

“I did sleep in,” Minghao says, laughing, making a weak effort to peel Seokmin’s fingers away.

“You need to sleep in _more_ ,” Seokmin says, flipping his blanket back over both of them.

The air under the blanket is hot and dark, and Minghao can only barely make out the lines of Seokmin’s face. Just enough to see when his smile fades.

“Um, about last night. What I asked you,” Seokmin says, haltingly.

“Yeah?” Minghao says, taken by the urge to hold his breath.

“I wasn’t… I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to get you to, um.”

“Do you want me to sleep with you?” Minghao asks, making it as plain as possible.

“Yes,” Seokmin squeaks, tucking his face into the pillow with a groan. “But I mean… not like I want to because _y’know._ I wanna do it as friends.”

Minghao laughs, curling his arms around Seokmin’s shoulders to pull him closer in the darkness, patting his back. “I can fuck you as a friend.”

“I just… I trust you,” Seokmin says, shrugging one of his shoulders like it’s a fact not worth stating. Maybe that’s how it is in Seokmin’s head but it still makes Minghao’s chest tighten around a familiar ache. He’s always just chalked it up to an effect Seokmin must have on everyone. He doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body and he’s easy with his heart. It’s endearing but it also makes Minghao feel like he always needs someone looking out for him.

Really, this is just another way of doing that. He might not be Seokmin’s boyfriend but he can do his best to make sure his first experience is a good one.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Minghao says, pursing his lips gently as he thinks about it. “I’ll take good care of you.”

It sounds cheesy when he says it, but Seokmin ducks his head and smiles a little so Minghao doesn’t feel so goofy about it.

“Um,” Seokmin says, looking up with a grin. “That was all. You can get up now.”

Minghao laughs, tossing the blanket off and letting the light fall over them again, letting to go Seokmin to pull himself out of bed.

**{* * *}**

“I have an ethical question,” Minghao says, two days later, sitting on the counter of his and Mingyu’s shared kitchen, kicking his heels against the thin wooden door of a cabinet and listening to it thud hollowly.

Mingyu looks at him and scowls because he thinks Minghao is going to break all their furniture just by using it. Or because he doesn’t consider the kitchen counter to be furniture the way Minghao does.

“Is it hypothetical or am I gonna be bailing you out of jail soon?” Mingyu says, turning back to the stove when he decides just glaring at Minghao isn’t going to encourage him to relocate. He’s right. Minghao kicks his legs and hums to himself.

“Hypothetical,” he says because agreeing to sleep with one of your friends isn’t against the law.

“Okay,” Mingyu says, sounding just a little relieved.

“How close can you be with someone before it’s not cool to fuck them?” He asks, leaning back on his palms.

Mingyu’s reaction is disappointingly understated. He tilts his head to the side, considering while still stirring whatever it is he’s cooking. Minghao forgot to ask, but it smells nice either way.

“Are you propositioning me?” Mingyu asks after a moment, a little smile on his face.

“No,” Minghao says, keeping his face as straight as he can. “I’m not worried about the ethical implications of sleeping with you.”

Mingyu laughs, his nose wrinkling, and Minghao wonders if he’ll miss the chance to get an actual answer to the question.

He’s not worried about the ethical implications of sleeping with Seokmin, either. But it is worrying him, and he can’t place why. The thought nags around in the back of his mind, hovering at the edges of his thoughts whenever he isn’t focusing on something else.

“Okay well,” Mingyu says, leaning his hip against the counter and looking at Minghao now, the stove between them. “I’d say anyone you don’t wanna make things messy with, you shouldn’t jump into bed with.”

“We’ve hooked up,” Minghao says, his tone conversational. Sometimes he brings it up just because it’s fun to remind Mingyu and watch him fluster around the topic. But this time it’s at least actually relevant.

Putting it in the past tense is even a little generous. If he cared to think about it, Minghao is pretty sure Mingyu is the last person he slept with. But he doesn’t care to think about it all that hard.

“And you saw how that worked out,” Mingyu says, rolling his eyes. He turns the other way, pulling two plates down and setting them down on the counter in front of him.

“I think it worked out fine,” Minghao says, fighting the urge to grin. “You moved in with me, even.”

Mingyu shoots him a look that suggests he might have done so against his better judgment.

“Who are you trying to sleep with, anyway?” Mingyu asks, stopping what he’s doing to look at Minghao with a frown on his face.

“It’s hypothetical.”

“It’s never _actually_ hypothetical,” Mingyu says, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, It’s Seokmin,” Minghao says, pressing his mouth into a flat line.

Mingyu laughs, digging a spoon out of the drawer, his shoulders shaking. “Okay.”

“I’m serious,” Minghao says, raising both eyebrows when Mingyu looks over at him. “It’s Seokmin.”

The spoon in Mingyu’s hand falls to the floor with a clatter that makes him jump but he doesn’t bend over to pick it up.

“Please say you’re kidding,” he says, more dramatically than Minghao thinks is really required.

“Soonyoung and Jeonghan were bugging him about it,” Minghao says, lifting both shoulders in a shrug. “He asked me if I’d help. I said I would.”

Mingyu frowns, bending over to pick up the spoon and drop it into the sink.

“Just once,” Minghao continues when it seems like Mingyu isn’t going to say anything. “As a friend.”

“Just a friendly defloration,” Mingyu says, rolling his eyes. “Same thing everyone else does.”

“So what should he do? Hook up with some random who doesn’t use enough lube and never calls him again?” Minghao says, his frown getting deeper with each word.

“Isn’t that what you did?” Mingyu asks, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Sure, but I’m not Seokmin,” Minghao says, shaking his head. “He deserves something better than that, don’t you think?”

Mingyu pauses for a moment, staring a Minghao, his brow furrowing together.

Then he laughs, shaking his head and turning back to the stove. “Ah. That’s why.”

“What?” Minghao asks, feeling like part of the conversation only happened in Mingyu’s head.

Mingyu refuses to answer, turning off the burner of the stove and shaking his head. “Tell me how it works out.”

Minghao resolves to eat all the leftovers, just to spite him.

**{* * *}**

Somehow, Minghao’s nerves only continue getting the better of him over the next few days. He wakes up twice in the middle of the night and the only thing on his mind is the decidedly un-sexy thought of screwing up Seokmin’s first time so bad that Seokmin cries.

And then Minghao melts through the bed and straight to hell, or something. Dreams are weird.

So he ends up sitting on Seokmin’s couch, palms sweating like he’s the one getting his cherry popped, not the one in charge of making sure it goes well.

Seokmin is draped over the other side of the couch, one of his legs draped over Minghao’s knee. There’s been a whole veneer of casualness over the evening; like they didn’t already agree they were getting together to have sex, not just watch some variety shows and complain about how the MCs aren’t as funny as they think they are.

Minghao hasn’t really stopped thinking about it all night. When Seokmin sits up, Minghao nearly jumps out of his skin, sitting upright and looking over at Seokmin like he’s expecting something catastrophic to happen.

“Did you um, want a drink?” Seokmin asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No,” Minghao says, looking quickly back at the TV to make it seem like he’s not totally losing his mind.

“Okay,” Seokmin says, settling back into his seat.

It’s maybe five more minutes before Seokmin clears his throat, rubbing his knuckles over his jeans with an anxious frown on his face.

“Should we just…” Seokmin says, his eyes flicking toward the door. Minghao glances over as well, hoping Seokmin doesn’t notice how hard he swallows before he finds his voice again.

“Come here,” he says, voice a little shakier than he was hoping for. “We can, um…”

He trails off, waving Seokmin toward him. Seokmin leans in, biting his lip. Minghao sits up, bringing their faces close together. He could count the neat rows of Seokmin’s eyelashes if he had the time.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” Minghao asks, reaching one hand out to cup the side of Seokmin’s face.

Seokmin smiles slowly, nodding slowly. Minghao leans in the rest of the way, pressing his mouth carefully against Seokmin’s. Seokmin rests both palms on Minghao’s shoulders, holding himself in place.

Minghao keeps the kiss tender and slow, reluctant to push any further even though he knows it’s certainly far from Seokmin’s first ever kiss. So it’s Seokmin’s tongue that presses against his lips, sliding into his mouth when Minghao parts them. He tips his head back, pulling Seokmin in closer and sliding a hand down his shoulders, letting it rest on one of his wide hips.

He digs his teeth gently into Seokmin’s lower lip, pulling until Seokmin groans, his fingers going tighter at Minghao’s shoulders. They both end up shifted across the couch, with Seokmin kneeling on top of Minghao and both of Minghao’s hands holding tight to his waist.

Minghao pulls back, almost hitting his head on the arm of the couch and looking up at him, blinking as his vision readjusts to the full view of Seokmin’s face.

Even though he agreed to it, and spent the last several days thinking about almost nothing else, he didn’t spend nearly enough time on the nitty-gritty details— the part of screwing Seokmin that would actually involve kissing him, touching him, hearing the kinds of sounds he makes. So he’s not fully prepared for Seokmin staring back at him with lidded eyes and flushed cheeks, his lips still wet from kissing.

There’s a little shiver in his chest when he breathes and Minghao is taken aback by the hot ball of arousal in his gut.

Seokmin swallows softly, kneading the tips of his fingers into Minghao’s shoulders, but there’s a little smile at the corner of his mouth.

“Bed?” Minghao says, ignoring the way his stomach twists at the suggestion.

“Yeah,” Seokmin says, sitting up with a quick flash of a smile. He stands and Minghao follows after him, kicking the door to Seokmin’s bedroom shut and watching Seokmin drop to sit on the bed.

Seokmin’s room is as messy as Minghao is used to; with disordered piles of cards from that game he and Soonyoung like to play, a pile of clothes sitting next to the already overflowing hamper, and then Seokmin’s weirdly immaculate desk. Nothing is different— Minghao has been in here dozens of times. He’s shared the slightly concave mattress with Seokmin and helped organize his closet on three different occasions.

It feels different, though. The air feels tight and restrained and Minghao finds himself standing five feet from the bed, shifting his weight nervously between his feet.

Seokmin looks up at him and smiles, as relaxed as ever, reaching both hands out to wave Minghao closer. Minghao steps in and Seokmin grasps both his wrists gently, pulling until Minghao is standing between his knees.

“Sorry if this is, um, weird,” Seokmin says, staring at Minghao’s hands while he talks.

“It’s fine,” Minghao says, trying to tamp down all the feelings he can’t name to the pit of his stomach. He cups one hand around Seokmin’s cheek, urging him to tilt his head back before leaning down and kissing him again, long and slow. Seokmin sighs softly, his mouth opening up, reaching his arms around Minghao’s neck and wiggling back, pulling him onto the bed.

Minghao goes along, his thumb stroking over the rise of Seokmin’s cheek. He puts his other hand over Seokmin’s ribs, rubbing the fabric of Seokmin’s shirt between his fingers.

“Do you want me to take it off?” Seokmin asks after a moment. His face is flushed and Minghao isn’t sure if it’s nerves or arousal or a mixture.

“Y- yeah,” Minghao says, surprising himself with the stumble of his voice. Seokmin sits up, pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it into the pile of clothes to be swallowed up like everything else.

Minghao swallows hard, clears his throat, swallows again. He knows how this is supposed to go— he’s supposed to touch Seokmin or take off his own shirt or do anything but kneel on Seokmin’s bed and _stare_ like he’s just been petrified.

Seokmin chews his lip, his eyes darting around the room nervously, and Minghao does his best to shake himself free.

“Lay back?” He asks, sliding over top of Seokmin when he complies, tracing the tips of his fingers down the center of Seokmin’s chest. “Just, um, tell me if I should stop.”

“Okay,” Seokmin says, his arms stretched out at his sides, hands laying idle like he’s not sure what to do with them. Minghao takes another breath to steady himself before dragging his mouth down the side of Seokmin’s throat. He’s careful not to bite too hard, just teasing the sensitive skin with his teeth. He digs his fingers into the sheets, dragging slow kisses around the side of Seokmin’s neck and down the line of his collarbone.

Seokmin makes a soft, whimpering sound, his thighs squeezing together before twitching apart once again. Minghao does his best to keep his brain focused on the present rather than wandering off ahead, flicking the tip of his tongue against Seokmin’s nipple with just enough pressure to make him jolt.

Minghao shifts the position of his knees, so one of his legs is between Seokmin’s thighs. He brings his knee up high enough to press his thigh against the bulge in the front of Seokmin’s pants. The pressure makes Seokmin groan softly, lifting his hips up on instinct to grind his cock against Minghao’s leg.

As much as he’s trying not to think about it, Seokmin is undeniably sexy like this— with his shirt off and his fingers grasping softly on the sheets, messy bangs hanging in his eyes and his lower lip bitten fat and red. He sort of wants to say something about it to Seokmin, to tell him how good he looks, but he’s not sure if that’ll be stepping over the line of doing this as friends or not.

He bites down on the inside of his cheek and says nothing, sliding his palm down Seokmin’s side, running his thumb over the exposed arch of his hipbone.

“Ah, Minghao,” Seokmin says, his voice shaking, rolling his hips up against Minghao’s thigh again. He leans over, watching Seokmin’s eyes flutter open and then closed again before planting another kiss to his mouth.

Seokmin lets go of the sheets to dig his fingers into Minghao’s hair instead, gripping hard enough to make sure Minghao can’t pull back without risking losing chunks of hair. He has his whole body arched up into Minghao’s, grinding his hips back and forth without a real sense of rhythm, whimpering against Minghao’s lips.

Too late Minghao realizes he probably should’ve asked what kind of experience Seokmin _does_ have— he doesn’t exactly make a habit of prying into other people’s sex lives. Seokmin turns his face to the side and groans and Minghao works a hand between them, pressing his palm against Seokmin’s cock.

He can hear the desperate hitch of Seokmin’s breath, fingers dragging from Minghao’s hair down the back of his neck, his spine pulled taut as a bowstring.

Minghao sits up enough to peel Seokmin’s sweats out of the way, fingers wrapping around his flushed cock. Seokmin’s heavy breathing makes his chest shake, pushing up into the neat ring of Minghao’s fingers. He flicks his thumb over the wet slit of Seokmin’s cock.

It occurs to him— before Seokmin snaps his hips up and whimpers, dropping one hand from Minghao’s shoulders to clap over his mouth— that he should stop and pull his hand away before he makes Seokmin come. The thought barely has time to fully process in his mind before he decides against it, rolling his thumb under the crown of Seokmin’s cock and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Seokmin whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut tight, coming over Minghao’s fingers. The slide of Minghao’s hand goes slick and fast and he continues until Seokmin flinches, his lips softly parted, struggling to catch his breath.

Minghao wipes his fingers off on the corner of the sheets, rolling to the side to give Seokmin more space to breathe.

“Sorry,” Seokmin mumbles, when he has the ability to speak again, his cheeks glowing pink.

“It’s fine,” Minghao says, rolling on his side and giving Minghao a little smile. He feels weirdly at peace with the whole thing, even though he probably killed any chance of anything else, at least for the afternoon.

It’s not really a surprise when Seokmin wiggles in close, tucking his head under Minghao’s chin, giggling. “Um, thanks.”

“We can do, ah, the rest later,” Minghao says, stroking one hand through Seokmin’s hair.

“Okay,” Seokmin says, his voice drawn out and sleepy. It makes Minghao smile, pecking his temple and sitting up reluctantly.

“Are you leaving?” Seokmin asks, sticking his lower lip out in a pout. Minghao grins, looking down at him and nodding.

“Unlike you, I have work tomorrow,” Minghao says. Seokmin rolls on his back and heaves out a sigh, apparently no longer bothered by the fact that he’s naked or that there’s a smear of come on his stomach.

Minghao, for a moment, wants to lean over and lick it off.

“Fine, leave me all alone,” Seokmin says, shooting puppy eyes in Minghao’s direction. “I’ll survive, I guess.”

“I’ll see you later,” Minghao says, standing up and rescuing his shirt from the floor. Seokmin hums, wiggling his pants back up and launching off the bed with a sudden amount of energy, attaching himself to Minghao’s back in a hug that almost knocks all the air out of his lungs.

“Seriously, thanks,” Seokmin says, his voice muffled against Minghao’s shoulder.

Something twists in Minghao’s stomach— a feeling he can’t name and doesn’t want to investigate any further.

“It’s no big deal,” Minghao says, the words heavy in his mouth. “It’s just a friend thing, anyway.”

Seokmin releases him with a giggle and Minghao feels oddly relieved to leave.

**{* * *}**

Maybe the fact that he can’t sleep isn’t so strange, given the fact that Seokmin has been running through his head since Minghao got home.

He didn’t expect to be so caught up afterward in thinking about it but the image of Seokmin stretched out on the bed, clothes gone, with his cock hard and his cheeks growing bright pink—

Minghao presses his forehead hard into his pillow, muffling a groan in the springy fabric.

He tries not to feel guilty, rolling to the side and pushing his hand between his legs, massaging his palm over the half-hard bulge of his cock, feeling it stiffen more under the friction.

Jerking off to thoughts of his best friend isn’t something that Minghao normally does. He’d rather not do it this time either, but as soon as he’s started it seems too hard to actually make himself stop. His mind is stuck on Seokmin; sucking him off to hear just how loud he can get, leaving dark bruises on the insides of his strong thighs. It’s his first time, so Minghao knows that Seokmin is bound to be vice tight around his cock.

For the past week, every time he’s tried to think about it, his mind has immediately turned to all the things that could go wrong sleeping with Seokmin— all the ways he could fuck it up. But this time, with his fingers, wrapped loosely around the bare skin of his hard dick, it’s suddenly much easier to focus on the rest of it. Instead of dreading the chance of pushing too fast or hurting him on accident, Minghao is thinking about holding Seokmin’s thighs wide apart to watch his own cock sink into Seokmin’s stretched hole for the first time.

His stomach twists and a bright, hot flash of sensation zig zags up his spine and Minghao bites down on the inside of his wrist to keep from whining embarrassingly. In his mind, he can see it far too clearly. Seokmin, nervous and eager at the same time, panting out little pleas for more while Minghao carefully fingers his hole open…

He thinks about kissing Seokmin, slow and sweet until both of them are burning for more— about Seokmin clinging to his shoulders— Seokmin saying his name—

Minghao’s thighs shake, another sizzling wave hitting him just before he comes, far faster than expected, making a mess of his fingers and the inside of his sleeping shorts.

It’s late, and Minghao does have to work early, but he suddenly feels very awake.

He drags himself out of the bed, shedding his shorts in favor of a clean pair of sweats and wiping his hand off on a discarded t-shirt that’s already stained all over with paint and not likely to be missed.

From there, he crawls directly into Mingyu’s bed, planting his face into one of Mingyu’s pillows and groaning.

“Hao?” Mingyu asks, slow and heavy, reaching out to hook one hand around Minghao’s waist, pulling them closer together. “What’re you doing?”

“I think I have feelings for Seokmin,” Minghao says, his face still buried in the pillow.

“You think?” Mingyu asks, more amused this time. Minghao darts a glance in his direction only to find Mingyu giving him a wide, sleepy smile.

“Yeah,” Minghao says, heaving out a sigh. “I was supposed to fuck him today.”

“You didn’t go through with it?” Mingyu asks, his thumb rubbing between the bumps of Minghao’s spine.

“No… I jerked him off and then told him I had to leave,” Minghao says, shutting his eyes. “I’m just freaked out.”

“Because you realized you have feelings for him?” Mingyu asks and Minghao nods slowly, taking a moment to think it over first.

“Yeah, I think that’s why I was so nervous,” Minghao says. He lets himself be dragged in further and tucked under Mingyu’s chin, fingertips drawing little circles on his shoulder while he talks. “I’m gonna have to tell him I can’t go through with it.”

“Are you still that nervous?” Mingyu asks, leaning back to look down at Minghao, giggling a little. “I figured it’d be easier once you figured it out.”

Minghao glares at him for a second but can’t find it in himself to be truly annoyed. Of course, Mingyu managed to figure it out first.

“It’s not really fair,” Minghao says, shaking his head. “He trusts me and he asked me to do this as his friend, not as someone with feelings for him.”

Mingyu hums, nodding his head and settling a little more comfortably, rubbing Minghao’s back gently with one of his wide palms. “Talk to him about it.”

The very idea makes Minghao want to march out of the appointment and never return, but reluctantly, he nods his head and lets his eyes shut.

“Guess I don’t really have a choice.”

**{* * *}**

Actually finding the courage to bring it up with Seokmin is different than agreeing with Mingyu’s assessment that that’s what he _should_ do.

He has to wait a little bit until he and Seokmin are casually splayed on the floor of the spare room that Mingyu and Minghao converted to a studio space. It gets the most natural light of their whole cramped apartment, and the bright colored drapes are always open to let in as much as possible.

Seokmin is sitting just under the window, directly in the shaft of sunlight that covers the floor, his head leaning back against the wall.

Minghao is supposed to actually be working on something, but he keeps looking up from his laptop to watch Seokmin doze in the sun like a contented dog.

It’s sweet, it makes Minghao smile to himself before he looks back at the screen, biting at the corner of his lip. His crush on Seokmin, as it turns out, is like a particularly loud dripping faucet or the slightly uneven edge of a table; once he’s noticed it, it turns out that it’s impossible to ignore.

“I know I don’t look _that_ sexy today,” Seokmin says the next time Minghao looks up, his eyes half open, a smile on his face. “Did I sit in paint?”

“Not this time,” Minghao says, quickly dropping his eyes. He feels silly for getting caught and even sillier for being embarrassed about it.

Seokmin opens his eyes all the way, stretching his arms over his head with a long groan, arching his back away from the wall. Minghao tries not to watch and tries even harder not to think about that sound.

He’s still pretty sure that it’s impossible for Seokmin to be sexy on purpose, but he manages it all the time without trying, now that Minghao is paying such close attention to him.

“Um,” Seokmin says, his fingers spread out on his thighs, rubbing nervously up and down his legs. “Can I ask you about something?”

“Sure,” Minghao says, still not looking up, though he’s ceased even trying to be productive. “Go for it.”

“We don’t have to do the whole sex thing,” Seokmin says, rushing through his words after a long pause. Minghao’s stomach twists into knots and he’s finally forced to close his laptop carefully— there’s no amount of pretending to work that’s going to save him from having this conversation.

He bites back the urge to point out that Seokmin still hasn’t asked him an actual question.

“I know it’s a weird thing to ask you for,” Seokmin says, tugging one of his fingers. “I thought I should ask if you wanna go through with it.”

For a moment or two too long, Minghao is quiet, weighing in his mind what he needs to say. He doesn’t actually want to call off the idea of sleeping with Seokmin, but that’s only because he’s suddenly realized he wants to be doing it as more than just Seokmin’s friend.

But talking things out is hard, and Minghao has never been the most in touch with his emotions.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Seokmin says, throwing his hands up in front of him and shaking his head. “Ignore me, okay? I’m going back to sleep.”

He quite nearly puts his head through the plaster wall when he leans back and Minghao blinks twice before lunging across the floor, scraping one of his knees on the way, catching Seokmin’s hands on the back of his head.

“Lemme see,” he says, pulling Seokmin’s hand gently away and tenderly touching the spot, making sure he’s not anything more than sore and bruised.

Assured that Seokmin’s head is still in one piece, Minghao is still slow to pull his hand away, realizing that he’s hovering inches away from Seokmin’s face.

His lips are turned down slightly, and there are tears in his eyes that definitely come from hitting his head but still make Minghao’s heart break to see.

“It might not be a good idea,” Minghao says, pulling his hands away and sitting back on his heels. “For us to fuck, I mean.”

“Okay,” Seokmin says, rubbing the back of his head. He’s trying to smile but Minghao’s stomach still squirms with the feeling that he’s done something wrong.

“I want to,” Minghao says, blurting it out before he has a chance to think his words through. Seokmin’s cheeks heat up and Minghao knows his face is probably pink to match. “But it’s probably not, uh, smart.”

A little smile flickers to life on Seokmin’s face, the nerves starting to fade from his expression. “If you’re worried about it, I promise I won’t make anything weird after. I trust you and I know you’re more into casual stuff, anyway.”

It seems like an odd conclusion for Seokmin to already have in mind— Minghao can’t remember saying he’s against relationships.

“Ah, this sucks,” Minghao says, leaning back with a groan. He can picture the fond, exasperated look that Mingyu gave him in the kitchen when he brought the idea up to begin with, and he can only imagine how much worse that’ll be if Minghao backs out from talking now.

“I’m sorry,” Seokmin says, his voice rising into a whine. “I didn’t mean to bring it up! You can forget anything ever happened!”

“No, I can’t,” Minghao says, rolling his eyes. It slips out before he stops himself and Seokmin clips his mouth shut, his expression wobbling uncertainly.

Minghao sucks a too-big breath into his lungs. “I can’t fuck you and just forget about it after. I don’t want to.”

“Oh,” Seokmin says, so soft Minghao almost misses it.

“Sorry,” Minghao says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t like… trying to get you into the sack with me or anything. I didn’t realize until, uh, after.”

“So… you don’t want it to be a just friends thing?” Seokmin says slowly, staring down at his lap, and Minghao has no idea how to interpret that question.

“No,” he says, drawing his lips together in a flat line. “I guess not.”

“Okay,” Seokmin says, lifting his chin with a bright smile on his face. “In that case will you do it if we’re dating?”

The pivot takes Minghao off guard, and he’s left staring at Seokmin with his mouth parted slightly in confusion. Seokmin’s ears are glowing at the tips but he keeps going anyway.

“I like you a lot. If that’s how you feel, we should just date,” he says, lifting his shoulders in a shrug, saying it as if it’s that simple.

And Minghao has to wonder if it really is just as easy as that.

“Okay,” he says, still feeling a little thrown off by the whole turn of events. “That… yeah. That sounds good.”

“Okay,” Seokmin says, his tone bright and agreeable. “Can you kiss me, then?”

Minghao nods, careful to cradle the sore spot at the back of his head when he leans in and plants his mouth to Seokmin’s.

**{* * *}**

It actually takes a few days after that, and an outing that Minghao isn’t sure if he should be thinking of as a date or not, before the two of them end up in Minghao’s bed together.

Seokmin is stretched out on his back, Minghao’s over-abundant pillows stacked behind him to help prop him up and Minghao is on top of him, mouth attached to the side of Seokmin’s neck, fingers tangling in the sheets under him. Seokmin makes a little sound when Minghao’s teeth wander over his throat, one that mostly gets lost in the air between them, and Minghao has a half second flash of guilt for doing this here rather than in Seokmin’s crappy one bedroom.

But he’s not really willing to move the entire operation to Seokmin’s apartment and Mingyu’s an adult who owns headphones, so he’s not really that worried.

When Seokmin’s fingers tangle in his hair, Minghao leans up to kiss him once again, sliding one hand under Seokmin’s loose white shirt to drag his palm over his soft stomach, up the angle of his ribs, feeling Seokmin’s warm skin stretched out under his fingers. Seokmin bites his lip when Minghao pulls back, looking up with a falsely sincere expression on his face.

“You’re not gonna run away this time, right?” He says, clearly trying to hold back his smile, stroking Minghao’s hair at the same time. Minghao huffs, rolling his eyes and leaning more of his weight down on Seokmin, pressing their brows together.

“No,” Minghao says, following it up with a little kiss to Seokmin’s forehead. “Besides I didn’t hear you complaining about the free handjob.”

Seokmin’s cheeks color a little and Minghao feels compelled to kiss one of those too. He gathers Seokmin’s shirt in his hands, pulling it off over his head and kissing the arch of his clavicle as well, fingers dragging down his sides. Seokmin squirms away from the ticklish feeling, his hands resting on Minghao’s shoulders, unsure of where to put them otherwise, it seems.

Minghao removes one of them to press it down against the bed, mingling his fingers with Seokmin’s dragging his tongue in a line along Seokmin’s clavicle and down to his chest, teeth scraping the skin. Seokmin’s back arches and he groans softly.

As much fun as it would be to take his time and figure out all the ways that he can make Seokmin fall apart, Minghao has already had more than his fill of waiting. His other hand slips between Seokmin’s legs, curving his fingers around the swell of Seokmin’s cock and rolling his wrist slowly. Seokmin’s mouth drops open, his hand tightening around Minghao’s, arching up into the friction with a choked sound.

He doesn’t admonish Seokmin to keep it down, even though he probably should. There’s something thrilling about it— seeing just how Seokmin responds to each new things.

Minghao has plenty of things that he wants to try out with Seokmin now that he’ll actually have the chance. He pushes Seokmin’s legs further apart, just enough to properly settle himself between them. Seokmin sits up half-way, yanking at Minghao’s shirt.

“I refuse to be the only one naked this time,” he says, pulling it over Minghao’s head and tossing it to the side. “Strip.”

Minghao laughs but complies anyway, shoving his pants off and looking down at Seokmin with his eyebrows raised, a little grin on his face. “Is that better?”

“Yes,” Seokmin says, blushing himself crimson. It’s a surprise to Minghao when Seokmin pulls him into another kiss, this time wrapping his fingers around Minghao’s half-hard cock through his boxers. Minghao grunts, pushing his hips forward into Seokmin’s hand, tongue invading his mouth.

Seokmin’s fingers are clumsy and lacking in confidence but that does nothing to stop the way heat curls in the pit of Minghao’s stomach. His nails scrape over Seokmin’s hip, pulling his jeans open with quick fingers and peeling them out of the way. He plies another shuddery sound out of Seokmin’s mouth, fingers skimming over the outline of his cock through the fabric of his underwear, not suite giving him the friction he wants.

He peels Seokmin’s hand carefully away from his crotch only to shove his boxers down and off his legs, nudging Seokmin to lay back against the pillows once more. He catches Seokmin glancing down then looking up at the ceiling with his cheeks pink and he can’t help but laugh.

“You’re allowed to look,” he says, leaning over and hooking his fingers in the elastic waist of Seokmin’s underwear. Seokmin blushes that much more, looking up at Minghao with a slight frown.

“I’m trying not to make it weird,” he says, a slight furrow between his eyebrows. Minghao laughs again, kissing the corner of his mouth and adjusting his position until he’s settled on his heels between Seokmin’s legs, fingers mapping out the tanned skin of his thighs, brushing his thumb over a little mole near his knee.

“I guess you have, um, stuff,” Seokmin says, worrying his lip between his teeth. Minghao nods, reaching out and pulling open the lower drawer of his nightstand and digging out a half-empty bottle of lube and a condom torn off the string of them that hangs out at the bottom of the drawer. He drops the condom next to Seokmin’s hip, keeping the bottle of lube in his hand.

“Have you done this before?” Minghao asks, raising his eyebrows. He’s not as nervous as he was before and the question comes more from curiosity than paranoia. Seokmin swallows hard before nodding his head.

“Not… not with anybody else,” Seokmin says, pushing his bangs out of his face only to have them flop once again over his forehead.

Minghao licks his lips, skimming his fingers over the outside of Seokmin’s thigh, his brain sticking on the image of Seokmin with his fingers inside himself, trying to get himself off like that.

He drops the bottle onto the middle of Seokmin’s stomach, making the both of them jump a little. Seokmin picks it up before Minghao gets the chance, looking up at him.

“Do you want me to do it?” Seokmin says, tentative and sweet. Minghao grits his teeth together in a hard line, determined not to be embarrassing. He nods his head, swallowing hard, his fingers tight on Seokmin’s thigh.

“Yeah,” he says, his own voice sounding distant. “Show me.”

He can see the shiver that trembles down Seokmin’s spine, watching him fumble the bottle in his hands, sitting up on his elbows. It feels like his perception has shifted into high definition, trying to commit as much of this to his memory as possible. He wants to imprint all of it into his mind forever; the shake of Seokmin’s hands when he douses them in lube, the bright, hazy look in his eyes, his own heavy breathing cutting through the otherwise quiet room.

Seokmin draws his fingers over his tight rim slowly, looking down at his hand with concentration written into the lines of his face. Minghao isn't sure if the intensity of his stare has crossed the line into being creepy or not but he can't pull his eyes away either. Seokmin works his fingers in tentative circles, his breathing shaky and strained.

He whimpers, looking up at Minghao rather than at his hand when he slides one of his fingers in. His whole expression is cracked open and desperate and it pulls Minghao in toward him like a magnet. Minghao drags his teeth over the curve of Seokmin’s shoulder, lips pressing into his skin.

“There you go,” he says, breathing the words into the side of Seokmin’s neck. “Just take it nice and easy, okay?”

Seokmin nods, squeezing his eyes shut for a second, his lips parting when his finger slips in up to the last knuckle. Minghao rubs soothing circles into Seokmin’s hip, his body lined up along Seokmin’s side now, other hand sliding down to wrap his fingers loosely around his own cock. Seokmin gives himself time to adjust to the intruding digit and Minghao continues lavishing kisses over the side of his throat, mouthing at the constant thud of his pulse, licking beads of sweat away from his jawline.

His eyes flutter open, then shut again, rotating his wrist a little before thrusting his finger, trying to find the right angle. He must do this more than Minghao thought— it’s obvious he’s figured out how to get himself off with his fingers, at least.

But Minghao isn’t trying to let him come— at least not yet.

He wraps his fingers around Seokmin’s wrist, slowing him down, hiding a little grin against the side of his neck.

“Easy,” he says, watching goosebumps erupt over Seokmin’s skin as he speaks. “You gotta open yourself up, can you do that for me?”

Seokmin opens his eyes, turning to look at Minghao before nodding his head. His eyes are a little wet and Minghao wonders just how sensitive he is. He pulls his hand back and lines up another finger, pressing both of them in. His mouth opens without letting any sound out and Minghao kisses him to make up for it, slow and filthy, releasing Seokmin’s wrist to hold his chin instead.

It’s obvious he’s less sure of himself like this, chewing his lip when Minghao’s tongue isn’t occupying his mouth, working his fingers apart with his brow furrowed. Minghao lets go of his dick a little reluctantly, grabbing the bottle to slick his fingers up as well.

“You’re doing so good,” he says absently, easing Seokmin’s fingers out. Seokmin makes a sound, quiet and torn, and Minghao just assumes its a complaint at the emptiness. He slides two of his own fingers in slowly, watching Seokmin’s pink rim stretch around them.

Seokmin’s back lifts off the bed, pushing his hips down against Minghao’s hand. He ends up with an arm tossed over his face, probably trying to hide the flush of his skin or whatever embarrassing face he thinks he’s making. Minghao debates pulling it away but decides against it, spreading his fingers carefully. Seokmin’s hole is as tight and soft as Minghao thought, his muscles squeezing like he’s trying to pull Minghao’s fingers in further.

“Can you take another one?” Minghao asks when it feels like Seokmin’s muscles have relaxed enough. He presses a kiss to the exposed inside of Seokmin’s wrist before gently moving his arm to the side.

He nods, spreading his thighs further apart and rolling down on Minghao’s fingers. His cock is slicked and flushed an angry crimson from being ignored and Minghao wants to take pity on him and wrap his fingers or his mouth around it but he also doesn’t want to push Seokmin past his limit.

“Yeah… I’m, ah, I’m okay,” Seokmin says, whimpering when one of Minghao’s fingers brushes just to the side of his prostate.

Minghao slides his fingers out to slick them over again, the palm of his other hand rubbing up and down the inside of Seokmin’s thigh. He groans when Minghao’s fingers slide in, three of them this time, stretching the muscles thin around the width of them.

“Just relax,” Minghao says, holding Seokmin’s hip so he doesn’t squirm away. “I’m gonna make you feel so nice, just keep being good for me.”

“Fuck… Minghao,” Seokmin says, whining, his nails digging into the back of Minghao’s shoulder when he grabs hold of it, barely squinting his damp eyes open. “C- can you… again?”

It takes a moment for Minghao to catch up to what Seokmin is asking, biting down the urge to grin. He saws his wrist back and forth slowly, nodding.

“You’re doing so good, Seokmin. So, so good.” He curls his fingers as he speaks, pressing against Seokmin’s prostate. He’d feel a little silly for the words if it wasn’t for the way Seokmin shudders like he’s falling apart, a tear leaking out of the corner of one of his eyes.

Minghao bends forward, kissing the tear away. He presses his mouth to Seokmin’s cheek, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth, fucking his fingers into Seokmin until the pressure of his body lessens.

“Okay,” he says, drawing his fingers out and wiping them on the clean corner of the sheets, figuring they’ll have to be changed later anyway. Seokmin blinks up at him, his eyes still wide and damp and his mouth plush and kiss-swollen. “Do you want me to stop?”

Seokmin is quick to shake his head, digging his nails into Minghao’s shoulder to keep him from getting away, a little smile lifting up the corners of his lips.

 _“Please_ don’t,” he says and Minghao grins a little in return, digging around the messy sheets until he finds the condom. He tears the little plastic packaging open, rolling the condom over his cock with a little hiss. He spreads an extra coating of lube over it for good measure, biting down on the corner of his lip and lining the blunt head up carefully with Seokmin’s stretched hole.

Seokmin groans, long and deep, when Minghao slides in, nails scratching thin red welts down his shoulder. Minghao grunts but does his best to ignore the sting of it, forcing himself not to just shove in to the hilt the way he so badly wants to. All the time spent carefully working Seokmin’s rim open does little to keep Minghao’s eyes from nearly rolling back in his head.

When he finally bottoms out, Seokmin is hiccuping uneven little breaths and Minghao wants to do nothing more than saw his hips back and forth and milk himself dry in the incredible heat of Seokmin’s body. He doesn’t— instead, he carefully strokes the hair away from Seokmin’s eyes and smiles.

“Deep breaths,” he says, fingers lingering on the side of Seokmin’s face. “You okay?”

Seokmin nods, slowing his breathing down with some effort. His nails are still digging into Minghao’s back. “Y- yeah.”

Minghao shifts one hand between them, wrapping his fingers loosely around Seokmin’s flagging cock, teasing it hard again, rolling his thumb over the slit. It works to distract Seokmin from some of the discomfort it seems— he whines and rolls his head back between his shoulders.

“Can you try, ah, moving?” Seokmin says, his voice still a little shaky. Minghao nods, releasing his cock to hold onto Seokmin’s hip instead, drawing back in one smooth stroke before slowly pushing his cock in again. The motion makes Seokmin groan and Minghao picks up a slow pace, sawing his hips back and forth and making sure he pushes all the way in on each thrust.

Seokmin hiccups out little groans every time Minghao bottoms out, his hand dropping from Minghao’s shoulder to grip weakly at the sheets instead. Minghao is a little glad for how quickly Seokmin’s legs start shaking, his efforts to push back on Minghao’s cock desperate but weak, losing a sense of the rhythm and just trying to work himself over the edge instead.

“You feel so good, Seok-ah,” Minghao says, his voice tangling around a groan, grasping Seokmin’s cock again. He flicks his wrist, bending forward to screw into Seokmin harder, their skin slapping together.

Seokmin whimpers twice, the second weaker than the first, coming over Minghao’s fingers with his head tossed all the way back. Minghao grits his teeth, the rhythmic movement of Seokmin’s muscles making it that much harder for him to hold onto the weak thread of his self-control. He fucks Seokmin gently through his orgasm, pulling out when he finishes.

He slides the condom off with clumsy fingers, letting out a clipped groan when he rubs his thumb under the crown of his cock, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. He’s surprised when Seokmin’s fingers wrap around his, joining Minghao in jerking his cock off in quick, mindless strokes. The back of his eyelids lights up with sparks of white light when he comes, adding to the tacky mess on Seokmin’s stomach.

Minghao collapses to the side of the bed with a groan, ignoring the layer of sweat on his skin and the fact that his fingers are covered in a mix of his come and Seokmin’s. He’s happy to ignore everything that isn’t pulling Seokmin close to his chest, kissing the sweaty top of his head and listening to the pace of his breathing slow back to normal.

“How was that?” Minghao says when he’s put the pieces of his brain back together for the most part. He peeks his eyes open, looking at Seokmin’s glowing skin, the litter of tiny bite marks on his neck, the smear of come on his stomach…

Minghao sits up before he really thinks about it, pushing Seokmin onto his back once more and dragging his tongue through the mix of their releases for no reason other than he wants to. The taste is sharp and bitter but Minghao isn’t bothered by it, listening to the surprise hitch of Seokmin’s breathing.

Really, he’d like to keep going— he’d like to put his mouth on Seokmin’s thighs, or his stretched ass. He’d like to see if he could maybe get Seokmin to come again from it.

But that’s all better left for another time, probably, so Minghao licks another stripe of come off of his stomach before nipping the soft skin and sitting up again.

“Um, good,” Seokmin says, answering the question that Minghao forgot he asked. “Better than I was expecting.”

Minghao laughs at that, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and laying down again. “You were expecting me to be bad?”

“No!” Seokmin says, his cheeks pink. “But people always talk about how _bad_ their first time was, so I kinda figured…”

Minghao huffs in false offense, pressing his nose against Seokmin’s. “Isn’t that why you asked me in the first place? Or were you just trying to get me in bed?”

Rather than give him an answer, Seokmin just kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot explain where the idea for this fic came from, but as soon as I thought of it I really wanted to write it more than anything.
> 
> My plan (eventually) is to turn this into a 97z series, so if that's not your thing you may wanna just stick with this one and not the (eventual) sequels.
> 
> As always, you can find more of me @97lesbian on twitter!


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